William Shakespeare

I charge thee, Satan, housed within this man,
To yield possession to my holy prayers,
And to read more

I charge thee, Satan, housed within this man,
To yield possession to my holy prayers,
And to thy state of darkness hie thee straight.
I conjure thee by all the saints in heaven.

I love a ballad in print o' life, for then we are sure they are true. -The Winter's Tale. Act read more

I love a ballad in print o' life, for then we are sure they are true. -The Winter's Tale. Act iv. Sc. 4.

Lady, you know no rules of charity,
Which renders good for bad, blessings for curses.

Lady, you know no rules of charity,
Which renders good for bad, blessings for curses.

He is so plaguy proud that the death-tokens of it
Cry 'No recovery.'

He is so plaguy proud that the death-tokens of it
Cry 'No recovery.'

The big round tears Coursed one another down his innocent nose In piteous chase. -As You Like It. Act ii. read more

The big round tears Coursed one another down his innocent nose In piteous chase. -As You Like It. Act ii. Sc. 1.